Písně radosti a vzteku

clear cut patches along worn out paths, strewn by the ashes of those long gone,
by the dust swirled with footsteps of millions gone by with enchanting, intoxicating rhythm

a rhythm that never goes out
recurring, ceaseless

oh, repetition, you mother of all subservience! How many times will you so insist on a lie
that it becomes truth? Just like a drool stain on a nice tie, drycleaned away again and again

tell me how many times can you stick out like a splinter, before the host body rejects you?

whatever real life we are left with gets take for granted
and dreams keep on crumbling like old plaster
heads weighed down by ideas already taxed bodies
bodies stiffened, paralyzed by fear of change

fantasies of life get repossessed faster than a tree would fall
and prophecies give out more than a hint of slavery
but, same as free thought, they all get cut off by the next sermon
of supply and demand and profit margins on life, death and beyond

My time is mine and i’m not wasting it
I vote for freedom, since it doesn’t run for any office

won’t let myself be crushed by the masses
may they come as strong as they like
keeping an open mind
struggling, but honest

every barricade gets built on
anger and reason, love and rage
find the balance between ire and compassion
and face it all like a nunatak

PUNKS 2014
This creeping thing just won’t cease with its faustian bargains
with its ever-improving heavenly flavored shit
handshakes and ties, it looks  so trustworthy, right?
As East Bay Ray said, “those dumb punk kids’ll buy anything”

and all this time I thought that we were the alternative
that we didn’t give a shit about their so-called culture
that we’re breaking free of their shit and starting anew
well, instead it just looks that we’re cowering at their feet

allowing a bunch of yuppies to sell our own revolt back to us

please, just don’t insist that you have any kind of values
‚cause then someone might not feel “free” to sell out
not only themselves but our common integrity and independence,
reducing us to nothing more than headbanging fashion victims

i’d rather keep to the streets
than gladly profane myself and my ideals
in a fucking TV show, remember:
the medium IS the message
so do you think you chose the best one?

I still believe that a pair of boltcutters
might do good for some animals,
as opposed to vegans parading for a chocolate company
“fighting for rights” with the help of multinationals


the world’s falling asleep and night’s closing in, the fire still burns
illuminating the circle slowly forming around
circle of those whose rebellious minds are as one
one calm day at an unquiet sea

strewn with stars, the night sky shines
like the gazes of people rejecting their masks
joining hands and strengths to face the world
with fires in their hearts that consume the darkness

still set on the same path we’ve always walked
feeling breeze of hope setting us free
dawn is upon us and the circle disperses
ready to face the sun and the hope it brings